Castiel and Dean sit alone in a motel room. The walls smell like mold and Sam has gone to get food.

"Dean, I was thinking about how I don't have a last name." Says Castiel, as he fills another shell with rock salt.

Dean glances up from his work. "And?"

"And... I was thinking, maybe..."

"Spit it out, Cas."

A smile lites up Castiel's face. "Maybe I could call myself Winchester."

Dean freezes in place, slowly putting his gun down on the table before turning to him.

"Cas, you..." Dean stops and runs a hand across his jaw, as if trying to find the best way to say it.

"Being a part if this family isn't a good thing. We're disfunctional to say the least, and... The history isn't good."

Dean leans forward and rests his arms on his knees. "Believe me, it's a curse. You don't want to be a Winchester, Cas."

Dean brings himself to look at Castiel, whose face is smoothed into the emotionlessness he wore as an angel. "Cas..." He starts.

Castiel cuts him off with a quick nod. "No, I... I get it. You're not proud of your name, so why should I be? Just remember Dean, you are more that your father's legacy." Castiel rises to his feet after finishing the bullet and heads out the door.

Dean watches it close with an empty click.